White Blank Page
by Fleur27
Summary: Picks up Matt's storyline at the end of episode 3.7. I'm not going to say anymore because of potential spoilers. If you're not watching Season 4 yet, you probably want to skip this one until NBC airs the show in the summer.
1. Chapter 1

**Warning: **Picks up where episode 3.7 left off. If you're not into spoilers, you'll probably want to wait to read it.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing here and am only doing this for fun.

**Notes: **I originally planned this to be one story, but then it kept getting longer and longer. It seemed to be falling nicely into threes, so I think there will be three volumes, with three scenes in each. The name comes from the Mumford & Sons song "White Blank Page."

* * *

Matt sat in the car, listening to his mother and grandmother fuss over the television. He leaned back against the seat, turning things over in his head. Discussions about appliances or the proper way to cook eggs....that could be his life for the next ten years.

Ten years of delivering pizza and taking classes at the community college. Ten years of cutting the crust off toast and doling out medication. Ten years of putting his life on hold and putting everyone else first.

He could do it, of course he could do it. But with the death gratuity and Grandma's acceptance of Shelby as part of the family, he could see a way out. A different future that looked a hell of a lot better than the present.

But still, that little voice nagged away at the back of his head, the one that told him that he'd be abandoning the only person who was always there for him. The one that reminded him he was no better than his father. The one that said staying was the right thing.

"Oh shut up," muttered Matt under his breath as he stepped out of the car. He took the three steps in one stride and pulled the front door open. He was barely in the house when his grandmother was hugging him, the weight of her dragging him down.

"Matthew! I missed you so much. Did you have a good time at the concert?" she asked.

"Yeah, Grandma. I did."

"I didn't know concerts went on for three days, but there you go. I guess there's a lot of things I don't know." She beamed at him before shuffling off toward the bathroom.

"It was more like a festival, like a series of concerts, different bands, different places," he mumbled as she walked away.

"Glad you had a nice time," said Shelby.

"Yeah, thanks. And thanks for staying with Grandma."

"It's no problem. You look kind of tired, so why don't I stay the night?"

"You don't have to do that. I'm fine, really."

"It's okay. I want to." She smiled at him.

At some point in the last year, Shelby gone from being a stranger to a friend and finally seemed to be making the transition to family member.

"Thanks. I guess I'm tired after all that driving," he said as he went to his room.

When Matt closed the door behind him, his room felt small and cramped, like the walls had moved a few feet closer together while he'd been gone. He turned on the light, then stretched out on the bed with a sigh.

Closing his eyes, he started a mental list of the things he needed to figure out. How to leave. When to leave. Where to go. What to do. What to say to Grandma. To Shelby. To Julie. To Landry.

The idea of starting a new life somewhere else was intoxicating and terrifying. Like calling for the snap from the shotgun and watching the defensive line thunder forward. Matt smiled to himself, thinking that at least he had more than two seconds to make a decision and creating a new life wouldn't involve getting flattened by 200-pound gorillas.

* * *

Matt woke up before the sun was up, still wearing the clothes from the night before. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but he felt better for it. His head was clear, like a new page, a fresh start.

He pulled open the door and stepped out into the living room. Shelby was perched on the couch, drinking a cup of tea, both hands wrapped around the mug like it was the only heat source left in the world. They exchanged mumbled greetings, then Matt made his way across the room and sat down next to her.

"How're you doing?" she asked.

He shrugged and looked away. "I don't know."

"What do you need? Anything I can help you with?"

"I need... I think I need," he stumbled through the words and then paused for a deep breath. "I think I need to leave."

Matt could nearly see the words hanging in the air between them. A declaration of something. Not quite independence, but something.

"I know."

"You know?"

"It's time, Matt. You need to live your own life, for you."

"But Grandma-"

"I'll take care of Lorraine. You don't need to worry about that."

Matt looked down, his eyes drawn to a frayed patch of carpet in the middle of the room. He opened his mouth once, twice, trying and failing to string his thoughts into coherent sentences. Shelby reached over and put her hand on top of his clasped hands.

"You're not abandoning her, Matthew. You're doing what kids do - you're growing up. She'll understand. Maybe she'll forget sometimes and squawk about it, but in her heart, she knows this is what you need to do."

He nodded slowly, feeling the tidal wave of guilt begin to ebb away to a manageable trickle. "Thank you."

Shelby smiled. "So, today's the first day of the rest of your life. What are you going to do?"

"I think I'm going to go up to Chicago, see if I can talk them into letting me start next semester at the Art Institute."

"Good for you. I'll make you some breakfast while you pack."

Matt stood up and rubbed the back of his neck. He took a long look at Grandma's closed door, then turned back to Shelby. "Thank you. For everything."

Her smile was real and so were the tears in her eyes as she waved him off to start packing.

* * *

Matt had never really gone anywhere before. Dallas for the State Championship game. Austin for the music festival. Oklahoma when he asked Shelby to sign the emancipation papers. Marfa for the Open House of Donald Judd's work.

On the rare occasion when he packed a bag, it had been simple: enough socks, underwear, and clean shirts to last the duration of the trip. But what do you pack when you don't know how long you'll be gone?

He filled a duffel bag with clothes, then filled a second bag with his art supplies. Rummaging around in the closet, he found a wooden crate full of old toys. Matchbox cars. Lego. Batman and Power Ranger figures. Grinning, he picked up the Furby that Grandma had given him for Christmas and remembered how Landry had taught it quotes from _The Princess Bride_.

He pulled open an empty dresser drawer and poured in the toys. The drawer eased closed without difficulty and Matt looked around the room. He was putting his clock-radio into the crate when Grandma knocked, then pushed open the door.

"You're going on a trip." It was a statement, not a question, and Matt wondered how much Shelby had told her about what was going on.

"Yeah...I'm going up to Chicago," said Matt, stuttering on the last word. He took down a few of his drawings. The hands that didn't make Richard want to puke. A portrait of Julie. The best figure he'd drawn at the community college.

"How long are you going to be gone for?"

"I don't know." Matt put a few books into the crate, then turned to look at his grandmother.

"Well, I suppose the day was always going to come."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Matthew, I don't see what you have to be sorry about. I don't want to hold you back. Maybe I should've pushed you out earlier. But I just couldn't. I don't want to live in that home."

"I know. And you don't have to. Shelby will look after you and now you have the money to pay someone to help."

"Like that nice Mexican girl. What was her name?"

"Carlotta. And she was Guatemalan."

Grandma waved her hand, as though it was all the same thing. "We're going to be just fine, Matthew. Just fine. And you'll come back to visit, right?"

"Of course I will."

Grandma gathered him up in a hug and this time, he didn't feel like she was pulling him down. He felt like he was five years old again, when he'd have nightmares and Grandma would comfort him. She'd always told him it was all going to be all right. And it nearly always was.


	2. Chapter 2

**Warning: **Picks up where episode 3.7 left off. If you're not into spoilers, you'll probably want to wait to read it.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing here and am only doing this for fun.

* * *

The first day, Matt drove for over twelve hours, the flat, dusty scenery rolling past him, fast and familiar. He let his thoughts roam as he listened to Bob Dylan in a car that still smelled like pizza. He'd somehow managed to solve most of the problems on his mental list: how to leave, when to leave, where to go, what to say to Grandma and Shelby.

He still wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do. Shelby had called and gotten him an appointment with the dean of admissions. If they wouldn't let him start in the next semester or wouldn't restore his scholarship, then Matt would need a Plan B. But for the time being, he was just going to focus on Plan A.

That left what to say to Julie and Landry. He'd called and left a message on Landry's cell phone. They'd been friends for so long, he knew Landry would understand. In fact, he suspected that Landry had been disappointed in his decision not to go away to college. Landry would be surprised, but he'd be fine with it.

Julie.... that was a much harder problem to solve. He didn't trust himself to talk to her, not even on the phone. Hearing her wavering voice would break down every ounce of resolve he had.

He'd stay for Julie. He knew he would just as surely as he knew it would be a massive mistake. He'd end up resenting her, their relationship would become strained, and in less than a year, she'd just leave Dillon anyway. Hurting her was inevitable but Matt reckoned he'd hurt her less in the long run if he left now and explained later, than if he tried to explain now and ended up staying instead.

The first night, Matt stayed at a motel just outside Springfield, Missouri. He smiled as he remembered debating with Landry which Springfield the Simpsons lived in. After looking it up on Wikipedia, Landry had a crazy idea to visit everyone of the thirty-some Springfields in the US.

The second day was the same as the first. Landry called, but Matt didn't answer. Julie didn't call. After seven hours, Matt reached Springfield, Illinois and took it as a sign that it was where he was supposed to stop.

The third day, he drove until he was about an hour outside of Chicago and then found a cheap room at a chain hotel. Before he left, Shelby had pressed a roll of money into his hands, sheepishly telling him that it wouldn't go very far in Chicago. He figured he needed to conserve his cash, especially when he found out how much hotel rooms cost in the city.

The fourth day, Matt drove into Chicago at the height of rush hour. The traffic was unbelievable: five lines jammed with cars like a parking lot at a football game. When the it thinned out, Matt was able to go a bit faster but found the driving difficult. He tried to keep a safe distance from the car in front of him, but someone would always screech into the space. It seemed like the only way to drive on a Chicago highway was to tailgate and hope for the best.

Exiting the highway, Matt expected to feel relief but he found the driving even more stressful. The added complications of pedestrians, taxi cabs, and one-way streets nearly paralyzed him, which led to incessant horn honking. When Matt finally pulled onto the street underneath the el tracks and found a parking space, he never wanted to drive in Chicago again.

He fed the meter, then pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and squinted at the address.

37 S. Wabash. He located the building and managed to find his way to the admissions office. It was an open and airy space, with large abstract paintings on the wall and a hassled looking receptionist at a desk that qualify as modern art, with its glass surfaces, sharp edges, and silver lines.

"Hi, I have an appointment to see the dean," said Matt, reminding himself to stand up straight. He didn't dare lean on the desk for fear he'd break the glass.

"I'm sure you do," said the receptionist, barely looking up from her flat panel computer screen. "But I can't help you if I don't know who you are."

"Oh yeah, I'm Matt....Matthew Saracen," replied Matt as he shuffled his feet. He hoisted his backpack higher on his shoulder.

The receptionist typed a few things into the computer before turning her attention to him. "Well, Matthew Saracen, you're an hour and a half early for your appointment."

"Oh yeah, well, I didn't know what the traffic would be like and I was hoping that maybe the dean might be able to see me a little bit earlier?" He gave her an apologetic smile.

"The dean's not even in the office yet. Why don't you go spend the extra time at the Art Institute?"

"Um, maybe I'm confused or something, but I thought I was already at the Art Institute."

"You're at the _School_ of the Art Institute. There's also a museum - really big and famous, just around the corner."

"Oh yeah," said Matt softly, wishing the black slate floor could open up and swallow him whole.

"Your first time in Chicago?" asked the receptionist.

Matt nodded.

"OK. When you get outside, turn left, walk up to the first major cross street, that's Adams. Turn left and you'll see the museum two blocks in front of you on Michigan Avenue. Big white building, lions out front. You seriously can't miss it."

"Thank you. I appreciate your help and I guess I'll see you later," said Matt with a small wave.

The receptionist reached behind her and plucked a small card from the top of a file cabinet. "Here, use this pass and you'll get in free."

Matt thanked her and made his way out of the building, rubbing the edges of the card like it was a magic lamp. He followed the directions, trying not to bump into the people rushing past him. With the crowded sidewalks and streets choked with traffic, Matt felt like he saw more people on the walk to the museum than he did during the average day in Dillon. The feeling of being one of millions, was both frightening and comforting.

There was an energy to the city. A feeling of busyness. That things were happening, could happen, did happen. Dillon was sleepy but Chicago was all hopped up on speed and life.

He paused momentarily to admire one of the lions, then climbed the stone steps and entered the building. A school group trouped past, two even rows of elementary school kids, with an adult at each end of the line. Matt exchanged his pass for a ticket, picked up a map, and left his backpack at the coat check.

It was nearly impossible to know where to start. Impressionists. Contemporary. Modern. Medieval Armor. Ancient Greek. Then Matt noticed a banner hanging behind the ticket desk, advertising a special exhibition of prints and drawings. He looked at the map, then folded it in half and tucked it in his back pocket.

He made his way through an exhibition of Buddha and pagoda statues and into the drawing exhibition. The room was dimly lit with soft track lights casting a gentle glow on the pieces. Matt walked through slowly, taking the time to appreciate each drawing.

He didn't get some of them, with their abstract squiggles of lines and circles. He identified more with the drawings of people and marveled over how different artists could draw essentially the same subject in such radically different ways. Cubist people. Minimal line people. Painstakingly rendered people.

Two works by the same artist, Ernest Kirchner, caught Matt's eye. The woodcut of the Swiss peasant was hard, with unforgiving lines and coal black storm clouds. But the drawing of the two shepherds was peaceful and serene, the gently curving lines suggesting an easier life.

Matt was shifting between the two pieces when he walked into the girl. He mumbled an apology, feeling his face flushing. He just hadn't seen her, sitting on a little stool off to the side of the Kirchner drawings.

Her hair was white blonde with uneven layers falling around her shoulders and a shock of pink dropping down onto her face, covering one eye. She looked up from her sketch pad, irritated. Matt looked down and could see he'd caught her mid-stroke, causing a charcoal line to stretch haphazardly across the page.

"I ruined your drawing. I'm so sorry. I just didn't see you," said Matt.

"Better watch it or I'll have them revoke your walking license," she said, her face reminding him of his mean third grade teacher.

"What?"

"You're new to the city, right? Yeah, you need a license for walking. Have to take a test and everything."

Matt smiled and cocked his head, certain that the girl was joking. "Yeah, well, I bet I could pass that test with my eyes closed"

"Given your performance this morning, I somehow doubt it." She flipped her sketchbook shut and stood up. She was at least six inches shorter than he was.

"Oh, hey, I didn't mean to chase you away or anything."

"You're not. I have class soon."

"You go to the School of the Art Institute? How do you like it?"

She drew in a deep breath as she considered the question. "It's....good. Difficult. But I'm learning a lot and the teachers are tough but fair. There's so much to art that I never considered before. You thinking about going here next year?"

"Actually, I'm supposed to be going here now. I got accepted but..." Matt trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence. _Felt obligated to take care of my grandmother. Didn't want to lose my girlfriend. Was afraid to leave behind everything I know and everyone I love._

"Well, you're here now."

"Yeah, I am. I'm Matt." He held out his hand and then felt stupid as she had to shuffle her sketchbook to her other arm. Her hand was small and delicate, but he could feel callouses and see paint under her fingernails.

"I'm Aubrey."

"Audrey?"

She rolled her eyes as she withdrew her hand. "No, Aubrey, with a 'B'. It means elf king."

Matt's first instinct was to point out that she was a girl, but he swallowed that dumb comment. "Okay, Aubrey the Elf King. I got it now. Maybe I'll see you around sometime."

"Why leave it to chance?" she said as she flipped open her sketch book and started writing in precise block capitals. "Meet me at the coffee place where I work, around 4 this afternoon. Sound good?"

"Sure. You're giving me directions, right?"

"Of course I'm giving you directions. And I'll give you the address where you can get your walking license." She tore the page out and handed it to him with a smile. Matt's return grin was slow, nearly shy at first, but he felt oddly comfortable with this strange girl.

She gave him a little wave and then was gone, walking faster than Matt would have thought possible. He looked down at the directions, then folded the paper and tucked it in his shirt pocket. He felt pleased with his morning accomplishments and was ready for his meeting with the dean.

* * *

Matt sat in the el car, leaning against the window. He was torn between staring at the scenery and keeping a wary eye on the homeless guy at the other end of the car. The train was less crowded than Matt had expected and it seemed to fly above the backyards and streets of Chicago.

Anxious about missing the Montrose stop, Matt got up as the train pulled out of Belmont. He stood by the door, his sweaty hand glued to the support rail as he counted down each stop.

When the train stopped at Montrose, he pressed the button to open the door, the way he'd seen other passengers do. Then he stepped out onto the platform and went down the stairs, exiting onto the street underneath the tracks.

Aubrey's directions said that the coffee place was practically under the tracks, on the north side of the street. But Matt felt disoriented and could barely remember how to tell north from south. After two false starts, he found the place he was looking for.

Matt eased open the door of the coffee shop and walked in. A long rectangular window allowed some natural light to filter in. Several large canvases hung on the wall, bold colors and shapes haphazardly forming streetscapes.

The girl at the counter wasn't Aubrey. She had short cropped blue hair with red spots dyed into it. Her eyebrow was pierced and her arms were covered in tattoos.

"Hi. I'm here to meet Aubrey," said Matt uncertainly as he stepped up to the counter.

"Oh, you're the guy. She hasn't shut up about you all day."

"Really?"

The girl leaned forward and dropped her voice to a whisper. "Between you and me, yes, really. So you better not break her heart or I swear to god, I'll break your fingers."

Matt took a step backwards and stammered his response. "No, ma'am I won't."

The girl laughed. "Ma'am? I don't know if I should be impressed with your manners or insulted."

"Well, I don't know your name," said Matt with an apologetic shrug.

"I'm Erin. Aubrey's dragging up extra supplies from the basement. You want a cup of coffee while you wait?"

As if on cue, Aubrey appeared with a large box of coffee filters. "You better not be giving Matt a hard time."

"I wouldn't dream of it," said Erin, winking at Matt as she poured coffee into a large blue mug.

"I'll be done soon. Sorry about this," said Aubrey as she disappeared with a wave.

Matt picked up his coffee and then set it down.

"Any reason you're still standing there?" asked Erin.

"Can I pay for the coffee?"

"Nah, this one's on me. Just have a seat. And for god's sake, try to relax. It's a date, right? Not a firing squad."

As Matt walked back to the window and found a place to sit, he felt his heart speed up. He didn't know he was on a date. He wasn't sure he wanted to be on a date. Especially not with the whole Julie thing weighing on his mind. No, he definitely wasn't ready for a date, even though, maybe when he eventually was ready, he would like that date to be with Aubrey.

Needing distraction, Matt pulled out his sketchbook, flipping to a blank page. He rolled his pencil between his fingers, trying to decide what to draw. He'd feel better as soon as the pencil hit the paper, but he didn't want to start until he knew what he wanted to draw.

He'd been on a hand-drawing kick for weeks. At first, he did it because of Richard's backhanded compliment. But then Matt realized that hands could tell stories. Chewed fingernails. Age spots. A well-worn ring. Callouses. Scars. Each detail added to the character.

The sound of a chair scraping on the floor caused Matt to look up. Aubrey slid into the seat smoothly and rested her elbows on the table.

"The blank page....sometimes it's an enemy. Sometimes it's a friend," she said with a smile.

"Yeah, I know what you mean," mumbled Matt. He felt unsure of himself and didn't know what, if anything, he should say about whether this was a date.

"So, how'd it go with the dean?" asked Aubrey as she leaned back in her chair.

"I guess it's a good news/bad news thing. The good news is I'm accepted again. The bad news is that they won't let me start mid-year because the first year is like this special program or something and you can't start in the middle."

"Then I'm happy and sad for you," she said with a smile. She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something, but the pressure building up in his throat caused several uncomfortable seconds of silence to stretch between them.

He cleared his throat once, but still couldn't manage to choke out the words.

"Matt, you still with us here?" she asked in a teasing tone.

"Look, Aubrey, it was real nice, you talking to me today and all and you seem like a sweet girl, but I gotta tell you that I'm, well, I don't know what I am exactly but I'm not ready to be on a date," said Matt, the words coming out in a rush.

Aubrey laughed. "What makes you think that I'm ready to be on a date with you? I've barely known you an hour yet."

"Oh right, yeah... good, as long as we're on the same page," stammered Matt, his cheeks burning.

"So, what are you going to do now? I mean, obviously, not this minute-now, but next. What's your plan?"

"I don't know. I guess go back to Texas until the new school year starts and keep delivering pizzas."

"Sounds like you'd rather cross the ocean in a lifeboat with a tiger than do that."

Matt sighed and looked away. "I don't know. I came up here and I don't know what I expected, but it felt like a new start and now, it's almost like landing on the Go to Jail spot in Monopoly. Look, can we talk about something else?"

"You're the boss, applesauce," replied Aubrey with an impish grin.

Matt laughed. "Boss, applesauce?"

"Shhh. I learned from Judge Judy. My guilty secret. I love trashy daytime television."

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

"Yeah, you seem like an honorable type. You have a very honest face."

Matt looked down, trying not to blush. "You can tell all that just by my face?"

"Sure. You seem like the trustworthy, responsible, dependable type. So it's a pretty big deal that you just dropped everything and drove on up here. Oh, wait, you don't want to talk about that. OK. Well, I told you my guilty secret, why don't you tell me one?"

"I...I don't have any secrets. Not really."

"Everyone has secrets, but that's okay. Some day, you'll tell me all of your secrets."

"You sound pretty confident of that."

"I am. Everyone does eventually, because I have that kind of face. But until then, why don't you let me look at your sketchbook?"

Matt shrugged and pushed it across the table. Aubrey opened it and slowly looked through the pages. The first few were still life drawings from the class at Dillon Tech. Then his hand obsession had begun. Grandma's hands, folded in her lap. Shelby's hand, holding a pair of scissors. A battered hand on a football. His own hand, reaching out to push Julie's hair off her face, just her chin and a hint of her mouth visible.

When Aubrey was done, she slid the book back across the table. She didn't say anything, but Matt knew she was well on her way to knowing some of his secrets.

"You know, you've seen mine, now it's only fair that I see yours," he said.

"I don't have my sketchbook here, but you've already seen some of mine."

"What, at the museum? All I saw was that I ruined your copy of the shepherds."

"No, I mean these," she said, as she gestured toward the canvases on the walls.

"For real?"

She nodded proudly.

"They're really good. I like the way they're both abstract and not, all at the same time, depending on how you look at them."

"Good, that's what I was going for. So, why all the hands?"

"I don't know. I guess I like them because they tell so much about the person. But not everything. Like you can see the what, but have no idea of the why."

"They give clues, but the mystery is still there, waiting to be solved."

"Yeah, exactly," said Matt, pleased that someone understood. "This might be kind of boring for you, but do you mind telling me about your classes? What it's like?"

For two hours, they talked easily about art school and Texas, friends and past experiences. Erin closed up the shop around them, locking the door, mopping the floor, wiping down tables, but neither of them really noticed.

"Hey, kids, I gotta get out of here in about fifteen, so wrap it up or take it elsewhere, okay?" called Erin from the counter.

Aubrey waved her off then looked at Matt with a strange expression on her face until finally his paranoia cracked. "What? Why are you looking at me like that."

"Look, you need a Plan B, right? Well, Erin's brother just kicked out his roommate, so maybe you could talk to him, see if you'd want to be his roommate. Find a job, stay up here until school starts next year."

"Really? I mean, that sounds good and everything, but..." Matt trailed off, knowing he was somewhat reluctant but not quite understanding why.

"Don't worry. Erin's brother is nothing like her. He's a tax attorney, just two years at his job, so he works crazy hours. It's a two-bedroom apartment, but usually he's never even home anyway. And believe me, even if you acted as bad as you could, you'd still be better than his last roommate."

Matt let all this sink in and tried to picture it. He couldn't quite get there, couldn't see himself living in an apartment, with a stranger, in this vast and nearly overwhelming city. But then he equally couldn't see himself driving back to Dillon and picking up his old life.

"You don't have to decide anything now. Although we do kind of have to get out of here. You feel like having some dinner?"

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"There's a great Thai place a few blocks from here. Would that be okay with you?"

"Sure."

Aubrey stood up. "I just have to get my jacket. You know, we'll be walking past where Erin's brother lives, so we can stop in and meet him, check out the place, if you want."

Matt nodded and then watched as Aubrey walked away. He felt uneasy, excited and at least ten other feelings, swirling around in his head and stomach, nearly making him dizzy. He remembered the science camp that he and Landry went to at Texas Tech when they were twelve.

They did an experiment at the pool, the point of which was long forgotten. But Matt remembered it involved climbing up endless steps, to the tippy-top of the platform high dive.

He'd felt the same crazy, queasy, anything-could-happen feeling then, as he crept up to the edge of the platform and peeked over the edge. As much as he'd wanted to turn around and run back down the stairs, he'd gone all the way up there, and he owed it to himself to step out into the emptiness and see what would happen.

"You ready?" asked Aubrey, already standing at the door and holding it open.

Matt stood up, knowing that sometimes, you just had to jump.


	3. Chapter 3

**Warning: **Set several weeks after episode 4.7 left off. If you're not into spoilers, you'll probably want to wait to read it.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing here and am only doing this for fun.

* * *

Matt dropped a few more shirts into the small blue suitcase that Aubrey had lent him. It had wheels and a telescoping handle, and she assured him that it would fit in the overhead bin. His stomach was churning and he felt like he had when he first stepped in for Jason Street: unprepared, incapable, and generally terrified.

"I'm sure she hates me," said Matt, turning back to his dresser to look for his good trousers, since he knew Grandma would insist on going to church on Sunday morning.

"You know that the opposite of love is actually indifference," replied Aubrey. She was laying sideways on Matt's narrow twin bed, her feet up on the wall and her head hanging over the side.

"Is that what you say?"

"No. That's what Elie Wiesel says and he won a Nobel Peace Prize, so I'm sure he knows what he's talking about."

"Fine. Then I'm sure she'll be indifferent to me." Matt flipped the suitcase closed, zipped it up, and put it on the ground. He sat down on the bed next to Aubrey.

"That's not possible."

"You don't know Julie. She is her father's daughter."

"So don't go home then. Stay here. I have to go to Thanksgiving dinner at my jackass uncle's house, deep in the heart of Republican DuPage County," she said, hauling herself up into a sitting position.

"That sounds like fun," said Matt, rolling his eyes.

"You have no idea. Erin's going with me. We're going to let them think she's my date. But, you know, it would be even better if you came along. We could educate the Christian Conservatives on the joys of polyamory," she said, playfully elbowing him in the side, zeroing in on his most ticklish spot.

"Aubrey, you're really weird."

"It's part of my charm. Why you love me."

Matt smiled. "I wouldn't go that far. But I'm certainly not indifferent to you."

"I know. Now suck it up and get your ass over to Texas," said Aubrey as she stood up and held a hand out to Matt.

------------------

When Matt stepped into the arrivals area in Midland airport, dragging his borrowed suitcase behind him, he immediately spotted Landry. He was leaning against a wall, wearing the same green jacket he'd had for the last three years.

"Matt, good to see you. You're looking well, that polluted Chicago air must agree with you," said Landry as he shook Matt's hand.

"Shut up," replied Matt with a grin. They walked out to Landry's car, making small talk about Matt's flight, which had been his first time on an airplane.

When Landry started up his car, a cacophony of noise blasted out of the speakers. Matt jumped and covered his ears while Landry scrambled to turn off the CD player.

"Nice, Landry. Now I'm deaf," grumbled Matt.

"Sorry about that."

Matt looked out the window. Twilight was giving way to night, and he could see definite lines of buildings fading into mere suggestions.

"So, uh, how's Julie?"

"Uh-huh. No way. Julie's a good friend, you're my best friend, and I'm not getting in the middle," said Landry as he shook his head. He paused for a few beats. "But I will tell you that it's not good."

Matt sighed. "What does that mean?"

"Look, you're going to have to talk to her yourself."

"Fine....fine. How's that girl you were seeing, Jess?"

Now it was Landry's turn to sigh. "I don't know. Some days, I think she's really into me and everything's going great. But then, other days, I get the sense that she's not all-the-way with me, do you know what I mean?"

The rest of the ride was spent listening to Landry dissect and analyze his relationship with Jess. When he pulled into Matt's driveway, Grandma and Shelby were waiting in the doorway before the car even stopped.

Matt thanked Landry and got out of the car. It felt good to be home.

-----------------

The day after Thanksgiving, Matt borrowed Shelby's car and drove over to the Taylors' house. He stood on the doorstep for several minutes, running through the possibilities of what to say. Finally, he managed to knock on the door, then took a step back and waited.

"Uh, hi, Mrs. Taylor."

"Matt," she replied, the surprise on her face giving way to a strained smile. "Well, this certainly is a surprise."

"Yes ma'am. Can I see Julie?"

"Sorry, Matt, she's out working on the Habitat house."

"Habitat?"

"Yeah, she's been volunteering with Habitat for Humanity for a few weeks, maybe even a month now."

Matt looked down. "Do you, I mean, can you tell me where this house is?"

"Oh, over there on the east side of town. I think it's one of those streets named after flowers."

"Thank you. And Mrs. Taylor, I'm sorry... for the way I left."

"You don't need to apologize to me," she said, somehow managing to combine steel and warmth in a way that only Mrs. Coach could manage. Matt gave her a weak smile and headed back to the car.

He drove over to the east side, then spent a few minutes trying to find the place. It was a warm day and he had to flip the visor down to keep the sun out of his eyes. He finally saw a house with tools and equipment out front. A bunch of people were sitting around the porch, eating lunch.

Matt saw Julie immediately, her blonde hair pulled up in a ponytail. He parked his car and walked up to the house slowly. She didn't see him until he cut across the grass toward the porch. She looked down, biting her lip.

"Sorry....for interrupting, but uh, Julie, can I have a minute? Please?" said Matt, stumbling over the words as his cheeks burned.

Julie shrugged and looked at the guy next to her, a tall blonde guy with a crooked smile. They seemed to talk without saying anything, and then she reluctantly stood up with a sigh. She folded her arms and walked silently back to where his car was parked.

"Well, look at that, nothing's broken," said Julie.

"Sorry? I don't get it."

"Your fingers. I figured they all must have been broken to prevent you from picking up a phone or sitting down at a keyboard or tapping out a text just once during the last seven and a half weeks."

"I know you're mad," said Matt, hoping she would give him a chance to explain.

"You have no idea what I am."

"Julie. Please. When are you done here today? Can I please pick you up so we can talk about this?"

She half-turned from him and looked down, considering it for what felt like an impossibly long time. Then she half-shrugged.

"Four o'clock." She didn't even wait for his response before walking briskly away. Matt got into his car and started it, watching as Julie returned to the porch. The blonde guy put an arm around her and lowered his head to whisper in her ear.

Matt drove around aimlessly for an hour until he found his car auto-piloting itself over to Hermann Field. He spent the rest of his time sitting there, alternating between thinking and remembering. The time went quickly and soon he was on his way to pick up Julie. She was sitting on the steps, waiting for him.

She got in the car without a word. Matt didn't think he could manage driving and talking at the same time, so he turned on the radio. He drove out to the lake, parked the car, and then shifted in his seat so he could face her.

He took a deep breath. "Julie, I'm sorry. Really sorry. I know I hurt you. I know I should have told you I was leaving. I know I should have called you before now. But... I couldn't."

"You couldn't?" asked Julie, her voice dripping with incredulity. "It's not that hard, you know? To just pick up a phone?"

"I knew I had to leave, but Jules, I knew that if I talked to you, I wouldn't be able to. I wouldn't be able to hear the hurt in your voice or see it in your eyes and still walk away. I'd have stayed. You were the only one with the kind of power."

She was staring out the windshield, her face hard but her eyes welling up with tears. "I can almost understand that. But Matt, why didn't you call?"

"I don't know. Because I'm an idiot. Because I was afraid. Because I thought it would be easier."

"Easier for you? Because it wasn't easy for me."

"I know. And I'm sorry for that."

Julie turned her head to look out the window, but Matt could see her trying to wipe away tears. She pressed her forehead against the glass and he could only wait. He wanted to take her hand, to comfort her, but he knew he'd lost that privilege.

"Tyra has this theory," began Julie, her voice weak and shaky at first, but then it gained strength and confidence. I call it the Tyra Theory of Timing. She says you can love someone, and they can love you back, but if the timing is wrong, the whole thing is doomed.

"I think our time just ran out, Matt. I don't know why, but it did."

Matt looked down, but Julie reached out and put her hand on his cheek, the contact causing him to look at her. Her hand was warm but had callouses that he didn't remember.

"It took me a long time to get to this point, but I can admit that as much as it hurt and as much as it sucked to lose you, I know that you did the right thing. It was hard for me, but you're where you're supposed to be now and pretty soon, I'm going to be leaving Dillon too, to be wherever I'm supposed to be."

Matt leaned forward and pressed his forehead into hers, wishing he could just transfer all of his thought and feelings. Her arms went around his neck and he pulled her close, breathing in the scent of her citrusy shampoo mixed with the unfamiliar smell of sawdust.

With a final squeeze, Julie let go of him and leaned back into her side of the car.

"So, how's Chicago?"

Matt caught Julie up on his life, mentioning his new friends while trying to avoid any specific names or pronouns. It's not like he thought she'd be jealous, he just didn't want her to think that the first thing he'd done was try to replace her. Because whatever he had with Aubrey, it wasn't like that at all. It was different in ways he just knew, but could't quite explain to himself, let alone to anybody else.

"So you get to spend time at the art school and have friends there already. That's really cool. It must be so different from high school. Does everyone have crazy hair and dress all wild?"

"You have no idea," replied Matt with a slow, warm grin. "I really like Chicago, but it feels good to be home."

"But you feel even better to know that you're going to be able to leave after this visit," said Julie, somehow finishing his sentence with a true sentiment that he wasn't sure he'd even allowed himself to acknowledge.

"Yeah, but," began Matt, stammering as he scrambled to find a way to explain it.

"Matt, it's okay. I'm not bitter. And I think maybe we both know that this is just goodbye for now, it doesn't feel like goodbye forever."

He nodded, suddenly not trusting himself to speak.

"After all," said Julie with a smile. "The world's a big place, with limitless possibilities. Anything could happen."


End file.
